St. Flynn's
Chapter One ~*• Isabella Garcia-Shapiro •*~ “Mom, where are we going?” I ask. We drive up a road and past a spikey fence, and two girls with hockey sticks. They stare coldly at me. One wears fishnet stockings, a white shirt, a black and grey tie (undone), a magenta-and-black fingerless glove, a spiked neck choke, and a black skirt. The other wears something similar, except she has a chain on her skirt, eyeliner, and black and magenta hair. My mother waves, and one draws a hand across her neck, gives me a cruel smile and mouths “You're dead.” at me. I shiver with fear but try not to show it. “Well, Isa, we're here!” says my mom. We drive past a sign that says “St. Flynn's”, and underneath, it says “Please don't step on the grass”, but someone crossed out the word ‘grass’ and wrote ‘rats’. We pull up in front of a Victorian-like big building, which has cracks in a few windows and safety tape and old wood pieces scattered on the roof. My mom leads me up to the door and walks inside. I stare up at the building and there is a loud crash. I jump and look behind me. The crash was someone dropping a desk out of the window. I see two Goth-like girls who draw their hands across their necks like the girls I saw earlier did. I walk inside, close to my Mom. I stare at the big winding staircase and see a whole schoolsworth of mean and/or rebellious looking girls. I look worriedly at my mom, and back to the staircase. They've disappeared... Chapter Two Mom ends up turning the lady's iPod off. “Oh, sorry! You know, Mondays and all. I'm always turned off on Mondays because...” the woman says in a sort of Essex-ish Cockney accent. She burbles on about the days of the week and stupid stuff like that. “Isa, I have to go and pay for your term. Go upstairs and meet your peers.” says Mom. “''Peers''?” I reply. What in the heck are peers? “Other people at your school level. As in other 16 Year Olds, like you.” She beetles off and sends me to meet he Headmistress, Mrs. Flynn. I open the door quietly and step inside. “Oh, hello!” says the woman, presumably Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher. She has a really cute triangle headed boy next to her too. I swear it's an all-girl school? “Oh, this is Phineas. He's my son.” she says, reading my mind. Phineas blushes and waves. “Hi, Phineas. I'm Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.” I say, shaking his hand. I shake Mrs. Flynn's hand too and she gestures for me to sit down. I sit and she passes me some paper. “Just forms to prove you're not being forced here... heh heh.” she says. After filling out the forms, I walk outside and look up. The school bell rings, and there is a rumbling, as if an earthquake is happening. Then, a small girl clutching a teddy bear skips down the stairs. Suddenly, the hall and stairs flood with a wave of children, with me in the middle! After the people are gone, a girl with blonde hair that has blue and pink streaks in, a white shirt, black pencil skirt, tights and heels leans against the wall, smirking. “So,” she says, “Who's the limosene dropped off?” Well, then. Not a nice way to greet people, but hey, I'm not here to make snap judgements against anyone. “Um... Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.” I reply. “I'll have someone come fetch your bags.” Excuse me? “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.” I say. I sound pretty prissy, I know, but this girl can get you off the deep end if she tried, by the looks of it. “Jade Costello. Head girl.” she says. I snort. “Really?” I say, in a disbelieving tone. The smile on her face drops and she walks past me, up the stairs. “Welcome to St. Flynn's.” she says, walking upstairs. Chapter Three The bedroom wing thingie is pretty horrific. I see a girl shoving something under her bed. She has her hair in a really high ponytail, caked-on makeup, fake tan and a nosering, “Oi!” she says, looking up at me. “What you boggin' at?” “Um, nothing... I was just wondering if you knew where my bed was...” I reply hastily. “You sayin' I stole your bed?!” she snaps, approaching me. “Is that what you're sayin'? 'Cos if you're sayin' that, I'm gonna give you a slap.” Just then, Jade comes, takes my arm and leads me away. “Sorry, the chavs can be touchy right about now. Especially Chanelle.” she says. “''Oi! You callin' me a chav?!''” I hear Chanelle shout. She leads me over to some people wearing glasses, striped pyjamas and pig/ponytails. “Got any computer troubles? Go to the Geeks.” says Jade, leading me forward. “Right, girls, so far we're 50% into NASA's computer software.” I hear a girl with brown hair say. We pass some girls wearing really high standard princess-like clothes, with perfect hair and makeup. “The Posh Tottys. They each claim to have kissed a member of the Royal Family at least three times.” says Jade, escorting me forward. We reach a dark area of the room with people who have piercings, black and either purple, red, white, or yellow hair, pale skin, and black makeup. They're performing a sort of ritual, and half are asleep, even though it's only five. “Let me guess— Goths?” I say. “We're not Goths, we're Emo.” one says. “Emo?” I ask. What in the name of total normality is an Emo? “Emotionally Unstable.” says Jade. We reach a pack of wild looking 11-13 year olds, pillow fighting and drawing numbers on a board. “What are they doing?” “They're the first years. They're betting.” says Jade. “On what?” “How long you'll last.” she says, smirking. “That's your bed.” I sit down on my bed and green gooey liquid falls on me, then a pillow, which erupts in an explosion of feathers. What a lousy day. Category:Fanon Works Category:Articles under construction Category:POV Story's